family | dual personalities

October 1, 2019

Walking along in the changing-time

by chuckofish

Last Sunday was the Pedal the Cause bicycle event which the boy participated in for the third year, riding 20 miles in the PTC Classic. It was very hot.

I did not go this year, because there is a little too much walking involved, but I was thinking of him and proud of him per usual.

My weekend was quiet. Daughter #1 was home and accompanied me to my chemo treatment, along with the boy who comes with me every Friday. I am very grateful to have such support! We stopped at Chik-fil-a on the way home. Then the boy went to work and daughter #1 went to Ikea and I went to bed.

I read a lot of Longmire.

I hung up a new wreath (from Etsy) because fall is here.

I have always loved those “Chinese Lanterns,” don’t you? One of these days I’m gong to try growing my own.

News flash: not only is fall here, but it is October! Zut alors!

“When they turned off, it was still early in the pink and green fields. The fumes of morning, sweet and bitter, sprang up where they walked. The insects ticked softly, their strength in reserve; butterflies chopped the air, going to the east, and the birds flew carelessly and sang by fits.

They went down again and soon the smell of the river spread over the woods, cool and secret. Every step they took among the great walls of vines and among the passion-flowers started up a little life, a little flight.

‘We’re walking along in the changing-time,’ said Doc. ‘Any day now the change will come. It’s going to turn from hot to cold, and we can kill the hog that’s ripe and have fresh meat to eat. Come one of these nights and we can wander down here and tree a nice possum. Old Jack Frost will be pinching things up. Old Mr. Winter will be standing in the door. Hickory tree there will be yellow. Sweet-gum red, hickory yellow, dogwood red, sycamore yellow.’ He went along rapping the tree trunks with his knuckle. ‘Magnolia and live-oak never die. Remember that. Persimmons will all get fit to eat, and the nuts will be dropping like rain all through the woods here. And run, little quail, run, for we’ll be after you too.’

They went on and suddenly the woods opened upon light, and they had reached the river. Everyone stopped, but Doc talked on ahead as though nothing had happened. ‘Only today,’ he said, ‘today, in October sun, it’s all gold—sky and tree and water. Everything just before it changes looks to be made of gold.’

“The Wide Net”
― Eudora Welty

Have a golden week.

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September 20, 2019

“Scars make better stories than tattoos”*

by chuckofish

So another week comes to an end. It’s Fri-yay!

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I will be taking it easy this weekend, finishing Land of Wolves by Craig Johnson. Walt Longmire is back in Wyoming (where he belongs) and all the old characters are there with him. 👍 I am enjoying it very much and trying not to read it too fast.

I’ll probably watch some baseball–the Cards are playing the Cubs. Everyone here in STL is sort of cautiously optimistic as the Cards are still in first place as the playoffs approach. We’ll hope for the best.

Since today is the birthday of Sophia Loren (she’s 85!), we will toast her and watch one of her movies, my favorites being Houseboat (1958) with Cary Grant

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and Legend of the Lost (1957) with John Wayne

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…which both feature worthy co-stars.

And who can forget when she shared the joy with Roberto Benigni when Life is Beautiful won Best Foreign Film at the Oscars in 1999?

A great moment indeed.

And here is some wee babe goodness to tide you over…

Have a good weekend!

*Craig Johnson

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September 17, 2019

“I simply gotta march/ My heart’s a drummer”*

by chuckofish

We had a beautiful day for our local Greentree Parade on Saturday.

Vrooom, vrooom!

The wee laddie got quite a kick out of all the army trucks and tractors etc…

And Lottiebelle made the round of laps…

After the parade we went home for Episcopal soufflé and Prosecco. Daughter #1 didn’t want birthday cake so we had donuts… IMG_3241 2.JPG The wee laddie approved.

Daughter #1 liked her presents especially this one…

It was a fun day and a fun weekend and on Sunday I even managed to go to a couple of estate sales with daughter #1. I rescued a needlepoint pillow!

The good news for today is that the 15th Walt Longmire novel is being released and I should get it in the mail today!

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Whoopi-ti-yay!

See you on the trail.

*Bob Merrill/Jule Styne

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September 13, 2019

“Oh but I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now”*

by chuckofish

Always the most glamorous member of the family, even in middle school.

Daughter #1’s birthday was Wednesday, but we will be celebrating it this Saturday. We are going to our flyover town’s annual Greentree Parade where we will sit in folding chairs and watch the local high school bands and elementary school floats go by. The wee babes are coming along and it should be a good ol’ time.

There will be presents, although nothing as cool as a new bike…

Mary on Bike.jpeg There will be cake…

…and we will toast the birthday girl once, twice…thrice!

I will also note that today, besides being Friday the 13th, is the harvest moon. It is the harvest moon because it occurs during the harvest and near the autumnal equinox (which this year falls on September 23). So be sure to check it out tonight.

And here’s a little Bobby D, always appropriate for the occasion:

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.
-Romans 15:13

*Bob Dylan, “My Back Pages”

4 Comments

September 10, 2019

The slow-drawn wagon

by chuckofish

I had a very quiet weekend. In fact I never left my house! The wee babes came over on Sunday for dinner and shook things up for a wee bit, but they weren’t too…rowdy…

They are always so good at entertaining themselves with the same old toys and books while the grownups talk.

Speaking of books, I read one I picked up on the giveaway table at work–This Dark Road to Mercy by Wiley Cash.

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It was pretty good, but I can’t say it lived up to the cover hype that it was a cross between Harper Lee and Elmore Leonard. There were two children in the book, but they weren’t exactly Jem and Scout, and, yes, it took place in the South. Comparisons are odious and sometimes downright embarrassing.

I also watched a couple of good movies–Rooster Cogburn (1975) with John Wayne and Katharine Hepburn…

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and Wagon Master (1950) directed by John Ford and starring Ben Johnson and Harry Carey, Jr.

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Rooster Cogburn is worth watching to see the two great stars (both 67 at the time) so obviously enjoying themselves. Clearly they liked each other and were having a fine time. Who cares if the plot is a bit shopworn? The scenery is beautiful and the music rousing.

Wagon Master, on the other hand, is a real masterpiece…and there is nary a star in sight. Ben Johnson and Harry Carey, Jr., usually supporting players, are called upon to carry the action, along with Ward Bond, and they do just fine. It is a beautiful movie filmed in black and white by Bert Glennon in Moab, Utah. The story, which follows a group of Mormon pioneers going West, is a solid one and, as usual in Ford movies, is populated with realistic characters.

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Yes, that’s Russell Simpson as a Mormon elder next to Jane Darwell.

So I recommend both movies.

Now it is back to a busy week at work. I am also looking for something to read!

The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow.

I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load,
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.

--Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, 9

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September 3, 2019

Par for the course

by chuckofish

As predicted, I had a very quiet long weekend. Daughter #1 got a lot done while she was here, but I spent the weekend reading and napping. No matter how much I nap, though, I never feel less fatigued. This is problematic and annoying, but par for the chemo course.

I re-read Rest and Be Thankful by Helen MacInnes, published in 1949, a novel which I found not to be dated, still relevant and very enjoyable. I started Wildfire at Midnight by Mary Stewart (1956). We watched Hatari (1962) on two nights so we could maintain our 8:30 bedtime.

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You gotta love those baby elephants!

On Sunday night the boy brought the wee laddie over for a Labor Day barbecue. (Little Lottie was under the weather and stayed home with her mother.)

Best Book Ever

It is always fun/interesting to see one twin without the other. The wee laddie was well behaved and mellow, but we did have to have a lesson in not playing “catch” with the tator tots at the dinner table.

Daughter #1 headed back to Mid-MO on Monday morning and I continued with my reading/napping routine.

Can’t quite believe it’s September. I have a very busy week at work–here’s hoping I can get through it without too much ado. How is your week shaping up?

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August 30, 2019

“Come a-shootin”*

by chuckofish

Well, a long weekend is upon us and I, for one, am looking forward to it. As usual, I won’t be doing much and that’s okay.

Last week I watched a couple of good westerns, which I had never seen (or at least don’t remember seeing). The Westerner is a 1940 American film directed by William Wyler and starring Gary Cooper, Walter Brennan and Doris Davenport. Brennan won his third best supporting actor Oscar for his portrayal of Judge Roy Bean. Cooper plays a saddle tramp who tricks the judge out of hanging him and then tries to help the homesteaders.

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The script is good, the direction is great and it is a real pleasure to watch Gary Cooper ride around on the range. Back in the day, actors who appeared in westerns knew how to ride. (This is not the case in recent years and it is embarrassing to watch an actor try to maneuver a horse when he doesn’t know how.) Cooper grew up on a ranch in Wyoming and he he is truly one with the horse. Walter Brennan wasn’t so bad himself.

The other movie I watched, also about cattlemen vs. homesteaders, was Blood on the Moon (1948). Directed by Robert Wise and starring Robert Mitchum, Walter Brennan and Robert Preston, it is kind of a western film noir, dark and mysterious.

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In a plot twist, the cattlemen are not even the bad guys.

Anyway, I liked both films, so if you are in the mood for a good western, you might try either of these lesser known ones.

I have to admit, I have also been watching Jim Gaffigan stand-up comedy specials, which are available on Amazon Prime.

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He is an American stand-up comedian raised in Indiana and he is hilarious and G-rated. Gaffigan’s style is largely observational, and his principal topics relate to laziness, eating and parenthood. He is not political. He makes me laugh.

Comfort is where you find it.

Daughter #1 is coming home for the long weekend and will keep me company as I don’t do much. Hopefully the wee babes will come over for a visit. What are you going to be up to this weekend?

*Judge Roy Bean in The Westerner

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August 23, 2019

True for you or me

by chuckofish

Well, the kids are back in school. They’re back at my flyover university and in all the schools around town. I can tell because the traffic is different in the morning. Even the wee babes are back and loving it.

So much to do! So much to learn! Life is good.

In honor of being back in school, here is a poem by Langston Hughes…

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it’s that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It’s not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I’m what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me—we two—you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me—who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records—Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn’t make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?

Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white—
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That’s American.
Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that’s true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me—
although you’re older—and white—
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.

(Langston Hughes, “Theme for English B”)

Have a good weekend. Go home and write/a page tonight./And let that page come out of you—Then, it will be true.

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August 20, 2019

With a bit of a grin

by chuckofish

I was going to blog about our little trip on Saturday to Jeff City, but none of my pictures turned out very well. C’est la vie. I didn’t do much anyway–unwrapped a few boxes for daughter #1 in her very nice pre-war apartment, which I couldn’t help thinking, in her old neighborhood on the UWS, would be a million dollar apartment.

Two bedrooms, a sunporch, a living room, a dining room, full kitchen. Zut alors! And she can literally walk across the street to work. Well, she will have fun arranging all her stuff, and hopefully I helped a little.

I mostly reclined on the sofa, but I was exhausted when we returned home on Sunday.

Anyway, I will mention that today is the birthday of Edgar Guest (1881 – 1959) who, you may recall, was an American poet popular in the first half of the 20th century. His poems often had an inspirational and optimistic view of everyday life and he became known as the People’s Poet. No one ever reads him any more, but you could do worse.

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done

      But he with a chuckle replied

That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one

      Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin

      On his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

      That couldn’t be done, and he did it!

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;

      At least no one ever has done it;”

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat

      And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,

      Without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

      That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,

      There are thousands to prophesy failure,

There are thousands to point out to you one by one,

      The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,

      Just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing

      That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

This poem had a bit of a revival in 2012 when Idris Elba read it at the BBC Sports Personality of the Year Awards show. It was cool again.

We can always use a reminder to think positive and just do it, right?

4 Comments

August 16, 2019

So brave a palace

by chuckofish

Well, the wee babes went back to school this week. They were pretty excited about it.

As you can see, Lottiebelle is already co-leading the class…

Tomorrow the OM and I are heading down to Jefferson City to hang out at daughter #1’s new apartment. (Check out the new video on the JC Visitor’s Bureau webpage–JC is a happening place.) I’m sure we won’t be much actual help unpacking stuff etc, but we can lend moral support and give advice.

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Yeah, that lamp looks swell over there….

I am looking forward to a change of scenery!

Today I start a new, once-a-week chemo routine and I am hoping it is a bit easier than the last rotation. On verra bien.

For us the winds do blow,
The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow.
     Nothing we see but means our good,
     As our delight or as our treasure:
The whole is either our cupboard of food,
          Or cabinet of pleasure.

          The stars have us to bed;
Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws;
     Music and light attend our head.
     All things unto our flesh are kind
In their descent and being; to our mind
          In their ascent and cause.

          Each thing is full of duty:
Waters united are our navigation;
     Distinguishèd, our habitation;
     Below, our drink; above, our meat;
Both are our cleanliness.
  Hath one such beauty?
          Then how are all things neat?

          More servants wait on Man
Than he'll take notice of:  in every path
     He treads down that which doth befriend him
     When sickness makes him pale and wan.
O mighty love!  Man is one world, and hath
          Another to attend him.

          Since then, my God, thou hast
So brave a palace built, O dwell in it
     That it may dwell with thee at last!
     Till then, afford us so much wit,
That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee,
          And both thy servants be.
--George Herbert, from "Man"

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